


A Daydream Away

by heartlikethat



Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: Accidental Kissing, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Max Is Now A Gryffinpuff, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26992912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartlikethat/pseuds/heartlikethat
Summary: When Max gets hurt and Zoey offers to stay and take care of him, he gets a glimpse into what a future with Zoey would look like.(Set around one month after the S1 finale)
Relationships: Zoey Clarke/Max Richman
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47





	A Daydream Away

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most fun I had writing anything ever.

**Sunday**

“Zoey, as much as I appreciate the offer, you really don’t need to stay with me. You’re supposed to be taking care of yourself right now,” Max called out from his spot on the couch as Zoey was rummaging around in the kitchen.

They had just arrived back at his apartment, with Max significantly more battered and bruised than when the day first began. 

Everything had started out perfectly fine, with the two of them walking around the park eating street tacos, enjoying the pleasant weather and each other’s company. Things took a turn when Max noticed a distracted man on a bicycle was about two seconds away from slamming into Zoey. Without hesitation, he pushed her out of harm’s way, receiving the impact instead, where he was then literally knocked down a flight of cement steps. The end result? A broken arm and a few bruised ribs (although they certainly felt like they were fractured to him).

Zoey appeared in the living room carrying two plates loaded with the Chinese food they picked up after leaving the hospital.

“Max, I have two _very_ sound reasons that prove exactly why I do, in fact, need to stay and take care of you. Number one,” she set the plates down on the coffee table and held up her index finger, “you’re the reason _I’m_ not the one with a broken arm right now...or something worse probably, with my luck.” She plopped down next to him on the black leather couch and reached for her plate. “And number two, you can barely move without wincing in pain. How the hell are you going to take off your shirt so you can shower?” She raised an eyebrow at him and flashed a triumphant smile, thinking she had won the argument, before taking a bite of lo mein.

“Easy. I just won’t wear a shirt.” Max quipped, smirking when she started choking on her food at his comment and he couldn’t help but remember the way she stared at him the last time she had seen him without a shirt. Her gaze definitely lingered a touch longer than necessary, much to Max’s delight. It was about time Zoey was distracted by him for a change when he’d been distracted by her for _years_. Pretty much since the day they met.

He leaned forward to grab his own plate, grimacing as a sharp pain radiated throughout the entire right side of his body and _maybe_ Zoey had a point (big emphasis on maybe), but he still wasn’t going to allow her to be his own personal caregiver. However, he figured he could at least wait until after dinner to convince her that he was _just fine_ and would she please head back to the comfort of her own apartment, for his sake.

Max had only taken a few bites when he noticed Zoey was picking at her food more than she was actually eating it. He paused, regarding her more closely, taking note of the way her hands were trembling as well as her breathing, which had grown shallow and unsteady. Before he had a chance to ask what was wrong, the fork she was holding slipped through her fingers, clattering loudly on the ceramic plate.

“Every day, I wake up thinking he’s still here. And, for that brief moment, when I’m not fully awake, when it hasn’t hit me yet that he’s...that he’s gone and he’s not coming back...” Zoey’s voice broke, followed almost immediately by Max’s heart. “I just think...that I could benefit from not being alone in my apartment for awhile. With nothing there to distract me but my thoughts. All by myself.”

Max didn’t try and change her mind about staying with him after that.

Of course, a new issue soon arose when they couldn’t reach a consensus on the sleeping arrangements. Max’s one bedroom apartment had, well, one bedroom and therefore, only one bed.

“Zoey, if my mother found out I let a guest sleep on the couch, she would _literally_ write me out of the will.”

“Max, if you believe for one second that I would let you, with your _broken arm_ , sleep on the couch, then you’re _literally_ the stupidest person on the planet.”

“Zoey, let me be perfectly clear. I am not letting you sleep on the couch.”

“Max, if you sleep on the couch, I promise you, I will sleep on the goddamn floor.”

In the end, they agreed his bed was big enough for the both of them.

**Monday**

When Max awoke the next morning, it was to an empty bed. He tried to sit up, groaning in agony as his bruised ribs rebelled against the sudden movement and sent a surge of pain coursing through his body. 

Lightheaded from the pain, he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the throbbing to subside, trying to direct his focus on literally anything else at the moment.

That’s when he heard the sound of the shower running and remembered Zoey was there, in his apartment, where she had spent the night in his bed (although neither one strayed from their respective side).

“Hey!” he called out, hopefully loud enough for her to hear him through the thin wall that separated them, “there’s extra towels in the—”

“Hallway closet, second shelf, to the right,” Zoey called back, finishing the sentence for him. “Yeah, Max, I know.”

When she entered the room a few minutes later, Max’s mouth went dry at the sight of her, standing there with her hair damp and one of his shirts, his _favorite_ shirt, draped loosely over her petite frame.

“Sorry, I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed one of your shirts. I have to stop by my apartment and change before work, I just didn’t want to wear the sweater from yesterday because of the...” she trailed off, not wanting to mention the fact that her sweater was stained with his blood.

“I don’t mind,” he said quietly.

And it was the truth, he didn’t mind at all. In fact, if she wanted to revamp her wardrobe so that it consisted entirely of his shirts, he wouldn’t object. Although, admittedly, he would miss her signature look of wearing a sweater over a collared shirt. He really was a big fan of that.

“I have some time before I need to leave, do you want me to help you get undressed so you can take a shower?” When Max nodded his assent, Zoey helped him climb out of bed before carefully working the shirt off his body.

Once she got it removed, Max watched as her gaze drifted over the dark purple splotches that marred his skin, from his chest down to his hip and even further still, the rest hidden from view. Mesmerized, she reached a hand out, her fingers splayed, and lightly skimmed along his torso, following the path of the bruise.

As her fingers danced over his skin, Max struggled to remain in control, to not let the innocent touch of her hand obliterate his capacity to form a single coherent thought. But it was a lost cause and he knew it. Max conceded long ago that Zoey would always possess the power to render him helpless and he freely gave himself over to her now, falling into a swirling chasm of sensation.

The feel of her hand against his skin was electrifying, but when she grazed along his hip bone, he sucked in a sharp breath. Zoey instantly recoiled, pulling her hand away as if she had just been burned, even though it was her touch that seared his skin. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Her voice was apologetic as she peered up at him.

“You didn’t hurt me,” his voice was low and raspy and when her hands darted back toward him, this time to the waistband of his pants, his one functioning brain cell clawed its way to the forefront of his mind. He reached his uninjured hand down to cover hers, stilling her movements.

“I think I can manage from here,” he said in an undertone. He knew she was just trying to help him out of his clothes, but he ran the risk of having a rather embarrassing reaction if he let her continue, his body entirely too sensitive to her touch at the present time.

“Right, of course.” The blush that crept into her cheeks as she took a tentative step back made Max smile because at least he wasn’t the only one losing his cool this morning. His eyes followed her as she retreated from the bedroom, standing there a moment before heading to take a shower.

Afterward, Zoey assisted him with putting on a new shirt and made sure he had everything he could possibly need before she left for work. She promised to stop by during lunch and then informed him that she’d be back that evening, once she gathered a week’s worth of clothes from her apartment because she planned on staying until his face no longer contorted in pain anytime he so much as moved one single muscle.

On her way out the door, a thought crossed his mind. “Wait! Zoey, there’s a spare key in the—”

“Kitchen drawer, left of the stove, buried somewhere beneath a massive stack of takeout menus. Yep, already got it!”

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him that she knew his apartment so well. After all, he had lived there for two years and Zoey spent plenty of time in it over the course of those two years. But there was something about the familiar ease in which Zoey moved about the space, so very similar to the familiar ease of their friendship, that had Max feeling like she belonged there, right with him.

**Tuesday**

“Max, I apologize in advance for drinking all of your wine tonight,” was the first thing Zoey said when she walked through the door Tuesday evening.

Max had missed Zoey when she stopped by earlier that day during lunch, the pain medication making him drowsy and causing him to pass out on the couch. However, he knew she had been there when he discovered his favorite sandwich from his favorite deli in the refrigerator with a note that read _‘Consider this a token of my undying gratitude for saving my life. That act of heroism officially makes you a Gryffinpuff (don’t fight me on this!) See you tonight... xoxo - Zoey’_

“What happened?” He asked once she joined him on the couch, a full glass of red wine in her hand.

“Well, they finally found someone to fill your position and he started today. His name is George.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “He’s that bad, huh?”

“Oh no, not at all. He’s friendly, competent, and I like him a lot so far. No, the problem was _Tobin_. I had to keep running interference all day because he kept trying to mess with the new guy. It was exhausting. So much for Tobin 2.0,” she grumbled under her breath, downing half of the wine that was in her glass before closing her eyes and letting herself sink into the couch. “Mmm, it feels so good to be home,” she sighed in contentment, taking a few deep breaths before opening her eyes and glancing over at him. “How was your day? Are you feeling any better?”

Max stared at her for a moment, awestruck, as his mind was still anchored on the words she had said prior to her questions.

_It feels so good to be home._

Those words hung heavy in the air, the significance of what they unconsciously revealed expanding in the small space, floating over to Max and filling him with inexplicable warmth and exhilaration even as Zoey remained oblivious to what she just said.

“Yeah,” he finally breathed, a smile stretching across his face as he looked over at where Zoey was staring expectantly at him, awaiting an answer. “I’m feeling much better now.”

Max replayed those words on an endless loop in his mind as they sat together, rewatching _Star Trek Into Darkness_ as early evening faded into night.

“Tha feels s’good,” Zoey mumbled sleepily and it took Max a second to realize she was referring to him as he was absentmindedly stroking her calf with his thumb.

At some point during the movie, Max couldn’t pinpoint when, her legs wound up slung comfortably across his lap.

When he glanced over at Zoey, her eyes were fluttering closed. She kept her legs in place, so he kept rubbing circles over the smooth skin because how could he stop when she looked more at peace than he had seen her in months? He watched as the crease between her brows softened as she dozed off. And he kept watching until the line vanished completely.

Max stayed there long after she had fallen asleep, listening to the steady sound of her breathing until he, too, finally succumbed to his own exhaustion.

The last thought that filtered through his mind before he was swept away into pleasant dreams was the echo of her earlier sentiment.

_It feels so good to be home._

**Wednesday**

Heavy rain pelting against his bedroom window roused Max from a restless night of sleep on that dreary Wednesday morning. The bleakness of the day was all too fitting as it marked the one month milestone of the passing of Mitch Clarke.

Even though Max had tossed and turned all night, he was ready to offer Zoey support in any way she might need it, if and when she showed any sign of needing support.

However, that morning she breezed about the apartment getting ready for work as if it was just another day. Just a typical, average, normal day. And then she was bidding Max goodbye, a smile on her face as she walked out the door.

The fact that she was acting so nonchalant had Max feeling on edge, but he forced himself to text her no more than he usually would on any given day, determined to follow her lead. Max wasn’t going to push the issue if she didn’t want to talk about it. She would come to him when she was ready. Plus, there was a small chance (a very small, minuscule chance) that Zoey was every bit as fine as she was pretending to be.

So, instead of fretting _too much_ about Zoey, he occupied his time by filling out never-ending job applications. If he wanted to maintain his current lifestyle, he would need to find a new job soon.

Max prided himself on having a pretty substantial amount of money built up in his emergency fund, but he didn’t want to deplete that unless it was absolutely necessary. 

The day passed quickly enough and Max ordered Zoey’s favorite pizza for dinner. When she saw it sitting on the counter as she entered the apartment, her face lit up before she turned toward him with a soft look and a grateful smile. And he knew that she knew.

Zoey knew he had gotten it for her. It was Max’s way of letting her know he was thinking of her, today and every day, because Max _detested_ that particular pizza, which tasted like cardboard and sadness. 

But Zoey loved it, and that was the only thing that mattered.

As they settled into bed that night, Max laid there, wide awake, waiting for Zoey to fall asleep first. He waited for her breathing to become slow and even because that would show him that she truly was doing okay today, that she wasn’t just pretending.

When he heard her breath hitch, followed by a faint whimper, there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind about what he _should_ do and he definitely didn’t think twice about what he _did_ do a split second later.

He reached for Zoey at the exact moment she launched herself at him, fumbling for each other in the dark, seeking solace.

Zoey buried her head into his chest as she unleashed the most heart wrenching sobs Max had ever heard, her hot tears soaking through his shirt as he wrapped his arm around her.

Even though she was overcome with her own anguish and sorrow, she was careful not to press against any of Max’s injuries. Not that he would have noticed or minded if she did, because what did that matter when the woman he loved was hurting so badly? 

As he held her tight against him, Max wished for nothing more than to be able to take away some of her pain, to carry some of the weight. He wished, _oh how he wished_ , that he could do more than just offer words of comfort and love. “I’m here, Zoey. I’ve got you,” he whispered. “Always.”

**Thursday**

“Hey, Zo? Will you help me shave before you leave? It would appear that I have a video interview today,” Max asked from his spot at the kitchen table, his laptop and a bowl of cereal spread before him. 

“I’ve never shaved a _face_ before...” she looked apprehensive when she appeared a moment later.

“I have the utmost faith in you.”

Max thought he could probably manage to shave one-handed, if it wasn’t his dominant arm that was currently in a cast. He definitely didn’t feel particularly confident in his ability to use his left hand, not when he had a single blade razor.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Zoey asked incredulously once Max brought out the aforementioned single blade razor. “You don’t have an electric shaver or like, a _regular_ razor? Max, I’m going to butcher your face with that thing.”

“I trust you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t.”

“Zoey...” Max said slowly, as if he were talking to a child, “I need you to put on your brave girl pants today and do this one thing for me, okay?” 

Zoey’s response to that was a combination laugh/snort that sent them both falling into a fit of laughter. Max was pleased to learn that laughing now only caused him slight discomfort, a sign that he was slowly, but surely on the mend.

“Hey, could you like, not look at me while I’m doing this? It’s very distracting,” Zoey ordered a few minutes later, taking a deep breath, a look of intense concentration on her face as she held the razor in one hand.

Max acquiesced, choosing instead to stare up at the ceiling but he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting down to peer at her every ten seconds until, eventually, Zoey gave a huff of frustration. “Would you please close your eyes?”

“Yeah, sure.” Max obeyed, letting his eyes fall shut.

But now that he couldn’t _see_ Zoey, all his other senses were heightened. The scent of her coconut body wash (that now set next to his in the shower and made him smile whenever he saw it) lingered on her skin. He could smell the coffee on her breath whenever she leaned in close, the razor moving with precision over his skin.

He felt as she cupped his jaw in her hand, tilting his head to give herself better access to his neck as she continued with her deliberate movements to rid him of his beard.

She was intoxicating and Max was finding it entirely too difficult to breathe properly. Her scent and her touch made him feel dizzy and it was torture, but it was the most delicious kind of torture.

When he felt her thumb brush across his bottom lip, where it then came to rest at the corner of his mouth, his eyes fluttered open to see Zoey’s face mere inches from his own as she gazed softly at him. “I’m finished,” she whispered, but she didn’t pull away, her thumb once again sweeping over his lip as she cocked her head. “And I miss the facial hair already. It looked _super_ good on you.”

“Hmm. In that case, maybe I’ll grow it back out when I’m not quite so broken and I’m able to maintain a beard.”

In response, a devilish grin crept across Zoey’s face as she hummed her appreciation at the idea. Her reaction cemented it for him.

_Yep. Definitely growing it back out._

**Friday**

Max watched with amusement as Zoey frantically bustled around the apartment, organizing things that were already organized as she straightened the same stack of books for the fourth time that morning.

“Zoey, can you come here for a minute?” 

When she was standing in front of him, he cupped both of his hands on her shoulders (with no piercing pain in his ribs as he lifted his right arm, he happily noted) and fixed her with a steady gaze. “Hey, I know you’re nervous, but you’re going to do an amazing job. I don’t have a single doubt about that.”

With Joan as interim CEO of SPRQ Point, that meant someone need to fill Joan’s position and that someone was Zoey Clarke.

“Wow, not even one?” She raised an eyebrow at him and Max shook his head ‘no’, which had Zoey offering him a small smile, “Thanks, Max,” she said quietly and then immediately returned to being a giant, quivering bundle of nerves as she got ready to leave.

“Um, yeah so,” she grabbed her purse from the counter, “we’re working through lunch today,” she picked her phone up off the kitchen table and stuffed it into her back pocket, “so I won’t be back until tonight,” she spun around, trying to find her headphones and smiling gratefully once she noticed them dangling from Max’s outstretched hand. “Bless you,” she took them from him. “I’ll see you later,” she lifted herself on her toes and pressed her lips to his before turning and walking out the door.

Max stared at the closed door, dumbfounded, his mouth tingling from the aftershock of her kiss.

He received a text from her twenty minutes later that read _‘Sorry for accidentally kissing you...let’s discuss later’_

“What kiss would you like to hash out first?” Zoey asked that night as they sat facing each other on the couch. Max was a little surprised at first until it dawned on him that this was her way of letting him know she was ready to discuss what happened between them the night her father passed away.

“I say we talk about them in chronological order.”

“Right, right. Sure, of course. Makes sense. Um, I’ll start,” she began and Max was happy to let her take the lead because while he knew where he stood on the matter (um, he was in love with her), her thoughts remained a mystery to him.

“I’ve been thinking about that night. A lot, actually. About how much I’d like to do... _that_...again, with you. But, maybe not...quite so fast? Uh, because I think we both know the direction things were headed before...” she trailed off and Max filled in the blanks. “And I think maybe I’d rather wait...a bit...before we do, um... _that_ together. If that’s okay. I mean, if you even still want to, of course.”

As she rambled on, he couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped when she said that last part. Because there was the Zoey he knew and loved, adorable and oblivious. As if he would ever change his mind about wanting her. As if he would ever stop loving her. But Max knew, with time, that Zoey would come to realize the depth of his love for her. He would spend the rest of his life showing her.

“What’s so funny?”

Max didn’t answer her question, instead he just looked into her eyes, the biggest grin stretching across his face. “Zoey, if you’re ready, I’d like to take you out on a proper date.”

“Sure,” she squeaked out, “uh, when were you thinking?”

“Next Friday.”

**Saturday**

The unmistakable sound of pots and pans clamoring in the kitchen sent a surge of panic straight through Max’s chest and he hastily made his way in that direction to reveal the scariest sight he had ever seen in his whole entire life.

Zoey was in his _kitchen_ , trying to _cook._

“What, uh, what’re you doing there, Zoey?” He asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

“Since it’s my last day here, I wanted to cook for you,” she said it so naturally, like it wasn’t completely and totally bizarre that she was cooking actual food meant for actual human consumption.

“But...you...can’t cook...” he slowly pointed out, confusion etched all over his face.

“I can cook!” The indignation on her face was almost comical as she glared at him. In fact, he probably would have laughed if he wasn’t so afraid.

“Toast and frozen burritos don’t count.”

With her hand on her hip, she turned around and pointed the spatula at him. “I’ll have you know I once made eggs at Mo’s apartment and I didn’t even set off the smoke detector. Besides, I’m literally just making grilled cheese, so you can relax.”

But Max didn’t relax and when he heard her mutter a curse under her breath, he winced and prayed his kitchen wasn’t about to go up in flames.

His tension didn’t ease until she slid a plate in front of him and nothing had burned down.

“This is the best grilled cheese I’ve ever had,” he said once he had taken a bite.

“Okay, you don’t need to lie to me, Max.”

It wasn’t a lie. The fact that Zoey, who didn’t cook for herself, let alone anyone else, had cooked for _him_ , made it the best thing he had ever eaten (the tastiest? maybe not so much, but it was still undoubtedly _the best_ ).

All too soon, Zoey had packed up her belongings. “Well, guess I’m off. My mom and I are _painting_ tonight,” she said it like she couldn’t believe it was actually something they were going to do. “Some sort of grief thing she wants to try.” Zoey shrugged and picked up her bag.

“Sounds like a good idea to me.” He followed her to the door.

“It was nice...cohabitating with you. I, uh, had a lot of fun this week.”

“Me too,” he murmured.

“So...I’ll see you Friday. Well, I’ll see you before then because I’m still going to stop by and check on you, obviously, but...yeah, _Friday_.” The emphasis she placed on the word and the goofy little grin on her face let Max know she was looking forward to their date every bit as much as he was. 

“I can’t wait,” his voice was soft as a matching smile appeared on his face. She wrapped him up in a tight hug, holding onto him for several long moments before she pulled away, still smiling, and left.

As Max watched her walk away, he didn’t feel sad because he knew there would come a day when she didn’t leave. There would be a day when Zoey came home to him, a day when she stayed. When she always stayed.

It was just a matter of time.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited to Add (12/21/20): It’s been 2 months since I’ve posted this, but I just now realized there’s a continuity error between Tuesday and Wednesday. Because Tuesday night they fall asleep together on the couch and Wednesday morning Max wakes up in bed after sleeping terribly. I’m too lazy to fix it, but it’s gonna bug me if I don’t at least address the issue in some way sooo...it’s there, it happened, love you, bye.


End file.
